Firefly Eyes

The Fey.
From under my bush, the cold snow digging icy fingers into my belly,
I watched them,
My eyes feasting on the mesmeric sight.
They danced—
They danced as though the wind itself was in their feet,
So light were their steps.
They were not solid, though—more ethereal than corporeal…
Like a glittering fog.
I had to squint, at times, to see them clearly, my eyes tearing in the cold.
What a dance!
The musicians skirled a bright tune on pipes and golden violins,
I tapped my fingers in time.
The nobles—I could only assume they were such—sat outside the circle,
Laughing at the revelry.
And the dancers—ah! The dancers! Like music over the water
They moved,
So bright and clear and diamond-brilliant, their eyes glittering in hazy faces—
Firefly eyes.

And then a shout broke out—I had been seen!
I ran.
I ran as though the very hounds of the fairy hunt were after me—and they were;
I heard the howls.
Raging through the icy wonderland of the forest, they came,
On my trail.
I couldn’t escape! Such is the fate of those who spy on the fey:
Only ruin.
My breath came in panting sobs, white in the cold night air.
I wept.
My tears froze even as they tracked down my face; the fey would have no pity:
I was an interloper.
The hot cries of the hounds came ever nearer—I could not hope to outrun Them.
They were closing in!
A river cliff—one I had no memory of—suddenly appeared before me.
I had a choice:
Capture and death at the hands of the fey? Or a leap into the ice-crested rapids?
The hounds bore down.
I looked back and saw the fey court, riding steeds spun of moonlight and lies—
Their cold eyes shone.
I shrieked, but my voice only drove the dogs into a greater frenzy.
They slavered for my destruction.
I dove headlong into the raging chasm—anything but face those teeth…
And those firefly eyes.

The fall snatched away my breath; the water seized my body, ripping me away.
I struggled to surface.
Buffeted back and forth by the violent flow, I clawed at the water desperately,
I needed air!
With a gasp like a dying man’s last breath, I fairly exploded from the depths,
Breaking the surface.
Wheezing for air, and sobbing for fear, I tried to keep my head above the waters.
Rocks slammed into my side.
My head went under several more times, but all the while I was thinking:
“Better drowning than…Them.”
I couldn’t believe I had wanted to see Them! Risked my life to see Them dance.Dance!
Finally, I came to calmer waters, and climbed ashore, my skin numb with cold.
There was a village near;
I could smell wood-smoke, and hear the sounds of farm animals and a tavern.
They heard my cries
A few farmers with torches found me shivering and nearly dead on the riverbank.
I couldn’t walk.
They carried me back to the village and wrapped me in warm blankets,
Their wives tutted.
When I eventually thawed, I only told them that I had fallen into the river.
They marveled.
I couldn’t say a word about the fey and their dance—or their hunt—
Even if I had wanted to.
My lips were sealed, but whether by fear or enchantment…
I’ll never know.
All I know for sure—and all I would let myself think, fitfully dozing beside a fire—
Was this:
I never again wanted to see the fey. I will never again seek them out—
I shuddered.
They were best left alone. Them…and their dances…and their hunts and…

I like it. Actually, 'dangerous' fey are far more common in tales then Santa helpers or Tolkien's warriors. Even in Tolkien's Children of Hurin, one character says, "I begin to believe that Elves and Men should not met." A very good poem,!

lol--I was reading a book...I don't even recall what right now, and the phrase "firefly eyes" cropped up. I thought "Ohh! I want to use that" and sat down to write. I'll admit that it came out a bit darker than I had intended, but I liked the finished product. Just FYI, creepy isn't usually my forte, but *shrugs*